


hooked on all these feelings

by lacecat



Series: BSFSW [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: BSFSW, Clothed Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Miranda Lives AU, Set sometime in S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 23:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15761958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacecat/pseuds/lacecat
Summary: When her mother queries as to their captain, one of them steps forward. To his left, a man with a wooden leg flexes his fingers, perhaps a subtle nervous gesture - and to his right, a woman stands still, poised taller than anyone else near her, and she’s looking directly at Madi.She’s never seen a woman on a pirate crew before.





	hooked on all these feelings

**Author's Note:**

> day 2 for black sails femslash week!!! (pretend I posted this yesterday ok ok)
> 
> my #1 rare pair will forever be miranda/madi, come join me on this inflatable dinghy of a ship 
> 
> this was going to be much more of a thing, but I wanted to focus on just their relationship for this part. if I ever get my act together I'll write more, because I have this whole super poly plot in my head bc in this universe silver/madi still happens, silver/flint happens a lot earlier thanks to miranda's survival, and miranda is a fan of impressing her gf with sword skills (literally and also as a euphemism thanks)

For all that they had been tucked away from the rest of the world, they had heard about them.

  
Captain Flint, the man who brought Charleston to his knees. Bringer of storms, slayer of men, cursed to roam the seas in search of blood. The few boats that come in from Nassau, sent by her father, bring some news with them along with cargo. Madi drinks in the tales, imagines the sort of person who seeks such destruction.

 

She reads the books her father provides, learning about the world outside of the island. These stories of destruction and bloodlust only serve to make her curiosity on the rest of the world grow with each passing day. 

 

But perhaps the more mysterious figure is the woman who stands at Flint’s side, in these tales. She bears no name other than Barlow, but her presence is known in these tales as irrefutable as the man. The woman who stands beside the monster, twists his fury for her own purpose, schemes and plots like a witch with her familiar. 

 

Realistically, Madi knows that tales serve to distort character, warp its reflection until it can be used for any purpose. But she wonders about the figures in the tales, if they bear any resemblance whatsoever - or how they might view such distortion. 

 

Then comes the day that the Walrus invades the shores of their island. 

 

 

•••

 

 

Madi had been there when the guards had brought the pirates to the camp. Lined up, even with their thin, dirt-streaked faces looking around at this new world. Madi doesn’t pity them. Such men are dangerous, her mother tells her, and she knows they will not be able to leave the island alive.

 

But it is the figures to one side that draw her particular interest. 

 

Two men and a woman stand in their own small group, either like the men around them have all unconsciously given them that space, or perhaps they’ve moved to stand close to one another. When her mother queries as to their captain, one of them steps forward. To his left, a man with a wooden leg flexes his fingers, perhaps a subtle nervous gesture - and to his right, a woman stands still, poised taller than anyone else near her, and she’s looking directly at Madi.

 

She’s never seen a woman on a pirate crew before. 

 

Madi holds her eye. She cannot say she’s unafraid of the pirates, but she knows that to show fear is as good as a death sentence in front of them - that, and they would all be dead in under a minute if they attempted something against anyone in this camp, let alone her. She doesn’t blink, as those dark eyes stare at her, even as her mother informs the men their imminent futures.

 

The woman’s gaze grows more intense - but then Madi’s mother arrives, and she is forced to turn her head as the queen makes her inspection of the ragged line. 

 

She’s not entirely surprised when her mother asks the captain for his name, and the man reveals himself as Flint. 

 

Madi watches as the men are herded into the cages on the edge of camp. Her focus is caught by those three figure - the captain, and the quartermaster, who had also identified himself, and then the woman between them. The man with the wooden leg glances at her as she goes by, and she holds his gaze similarly - but he’s forced to twist away as well, until they’re all locked up, tucked away from sight. 

 

Barlow. An unremarkable name, but one that Madi wishes in that moment, she knew more about. 

 

 

•••

 

 

The interrogations of the pirate crew go on into the night. She knows they’re nearly done when her mother comes back to their home, looking tired but no less regal in the flickering torch light. They must have been satisfied by their answers, that there is no greater plot with their arrival. 

 

“I want to speak with them,” Madi says, in the middle of their meal. It’s just the two of them, and she firmly presses down any tone of nervousness in her voice. She’s been thinking about this ever since the pirates landed, once she was able to banish from her thoughts the sight of the Barlow woman. 

 

Her mother raises her eyebrows, but doesn't stop eating. “The pirates?” 

 

She knows she has to tread carefully in this conversation. The queen is a fair woman, but they are both stubborn, and her mother has no need to take her counsel. “I believe they might be of a use to us,” Madi says, “The supplies are becoming scarce, the boats coming less and less to our shores. If we can manage some sort of deal - “ 

 

“They know this, and they will attempt to use it,” her mother points out. “If you go to them, it suggests our leadership is divided, and would only hasten any attempt.” 

 

“Mother - “ 

 

Her mother sets down the bread onto her plate, and Madi closes her mouth. “You are old enough to understand what it means to be a queen,” she says. “I know our people see you as a leader. But you are too young to see past their deceit, I fear, and that has toppled greater queens.” 

 

"We live on shifting sands," Madi tells her, "We should built a future on something sturdier, even if the change is a risk." 

 

  
"These are dangerous men." 

 

“I know you wish to protect me,” Madi says. “But we share an enemy with these men. Father, he has lived with these men for long enough for that very reason." She reaches out, puts a hand on her mother's.  "Let me speak with them.”

  
“I advise that you do not go to them,” her mother says, and she picks up her bread again. "But I will not stop you."

 

Madi sees the resigned expression in her mother’s features, and she knows that she sees what she’s going to do, anyways. 

 

 

 

•••

 

 

The cages are illuminated by torches, enough so that the guards can quell any risk of rebellion, but not enough to see every man’s face. Madi is escorted up to the second cage, where she walks past most of the men, a couple of them eyeing her warily. 

 

True to her prediction, the three are sequestered in one corner, and she can hear low murmurs that cut off at the sight of her. Most of the pirates are asleep up here, the area being even darker with only the torch Kofi carries lighting her path, but she’s met with three sets of alert eyes. 

 

“I wish to speak,” Madi says to them. “I do hope that you are more reasonable than past pirates.” 

 

Flint, with his shorn hair, rises. “And you are?” 

 

“The queen’s daughter,” the quartermaster answers. “I saw her, earlier.” He then turns and does a strange sort of half-bow of his head. The woman to their side, however, remains silent. 

 

They look like they’re waiting for her to say something. Madi chooses to let them draw whatever conclusions, as she looks at them. There are dark circles under Flint’s eyes, and they all have a starved look about them. They had mentioned being trapped in doldrums for several weeks, and she thinks they look like trapped dogs, nervous of her but knowing they can’t voice it. 

 

Flint has an even gaze, while the quartermaster blinks normally, like this is a standard conversation he has on any day. When she finally makes eye contact with the woman, though, she holds it on purpose. The Barlow woman’s eyes burn like before, only unlike the other two, she can see that the woman is visibly sizing her up, considering and not hiding it like the others.

 

Her torch flickers, but the woman’s expression doesn’t shift. “I would have an audience with you,” the woman says at last. Her voice is not as low as Madi would assume, clear and sounding far more polished than she would have expected, “Ma’am.” 

 

“Miranda,” Flint says from behind her, low. “What are you doing?”

 

Madi lifts her chin, making her choice. When Kofi steps forward to undo the lock, the woman stands, as the two men realize and clamber up in turn at this change in events. 

 

“I would speak with you,” Madi says to the woman - to Miranda. 

 

“I am the quartermaster of this crew, ” the quartermaster says, like she doesn’t know. “I can discuss whatever it is you seek.” To his side, the captain - Flint - looks at her a little too hard to be free of distress, that she’s selected Miranda. She thinks that if she wants answers, they’ve given her enough by now. His eyes flicker between Flint and Miranda, and then to Madi, but he doesn’t attempt to stop her, perhaps sensing his defeat if he were to try. 

 

The woman’s eyes stay on Madi through all of it, even as Kofi opens the cage door. “I’ll return,” she says to the men with her, and then she steps forward into the light.

 

 

 

•••

 

 

Up close, Miranda Barlow appears shorter than the woman she had seen earlier with the crew, but she’s still a hair taller than Madi. Her eyes rove across the bookshelves in Madi’s room, taking it in, as Madi quietly tells Kofi to stay outside. He obviously doesn’t deem the woman a threat, for he goes mostly willingly. Little does he know, if her suspicions are correct, Miranda might be more dangerous than Flint himself. 

 

In the better light, Madi studies her. She’s wearing English trousers like a man, with worn boots and a loose blouse that, while simple, do not tell her anything else. She wears her dark hair long and tied back, and although she looks similarly starved like the other men, the hollows below her eyes just make her look more fixed in place, an immoveable object. Miranda stands this scrutiny, and she waits. 

 

  
Once they’re alone, though, Madi turns, where Miranda is waiting. “You are unique on your crew,” she says, “And I suppose that is by no accident.” 

 

“It is not, ma’am.” 

 

“They call you Barlow,” Madi says, and Miranda’s mouth twitches. “I do not care if you are Flint’s wife, his lover, or his enemy. But I do inquire as to who you are, as to better understand your position with the other men you brought to my island.” 

 

“I am a close friend of Captain Flint’s,” Miranda answers. Her words, however simple, seem measured, like she’s speaking of a shade of the truth. “When the circumstances had called for it, I joined his crew as a sort of advisor.”

 

“The men don’t question your place at his side?”

 

“They question it,” Miranda says, “But they need me, and that gives my position worth.” 

 

“I have heard of your pirate crews,” Madi says. “You come from Nassau, do you not?” 

 

“We do,” Miranda says, but she must make some gesture, for Madi instinctively knows there is more to that story. “You know of it?” 

 

“We have all heard of the pirate haven,” Madi says, and she glances over at her bookshelves. She can sense that Miranda is following her gaze as she says, “But you did not call it home, once.” 

 

“I was from London, before Nassau,” Miranda says, and she shifts a little on her feet. “A lifetime ago, like I suspect many of the people on this island existed elsewhere.” 

 

She’s not satisfied by the answers, but she understands that this is a game she will need to play to get the information she seeks. “I understand from your men that you were defeated in battle,” Madi says to her, and she starts to walk down the length of the room as she speaks. “Then you were offered pardons for all your men, immunity for your past crimes.” 

 

“That is correct.” 

 

“But you refused.” Her footsteps remain soft on the floor, even as she keeps her words firm. “Your ship sailed into a storm, rather than have the chance to have another life. Why?”

 

“Every man has his own reasons,” Miranda says. Her gaze looks a little faraway, though Madi doubts she's far from not alert. “Some saw the pardons as an affront to their pride. Others, it went against their identity as pirates, the freedom it granted tainted by control by yet another man.” 

 

“And you?” Madi asks. “Why did you not take the pardon?”

 

“We were betrayed,” Miranda says, and she looks at her. Her gaze is heavy as she says, “I assume you’ve heard of the siege on Charleston.” 

 

“I heard of your Captain Flint burning the port down.” 

 

“He did it on my order,” Miranda says, frank, and Madi can’t help the surprise that comes to her. “We were betrayed by its governor, and the personal attack had to be matched.”

 

“You did it out of spite?”

 

  
“We did it out of grief,” Miranda says, and for a moment, her face is transformed into something shadowy, marked by a great sadness. “Misplaced, perhaps, but I do not regret it.”

 

Before Madi can answer, though, Miranda adds, “Ma’am - might I ask something?” 

 

Madi nods. Miranda says, “Why is it you that I speak to, and not your mother?”

 

“My mother wishes the same fate upon you and your men as the pirates who have come here in the past,” Madi says. She’s never been one to mince her words. “You will not leave this island.” 

 

“But I suspect that you want something from us,” Miranda says. “Otherwise, why bother speaking with me?” 

 

“I believe you can provide us with information,” Madi says, “And for that, my mother has granted me this conversation with you.” She lets the warning color her tone, though, as she adds, “It is through my own patience, however, that this occurs.”

 

“Of course,” Miranda replies, and she dips her head ever so slightly. 

 

“I wish to know about Flint and your quartermaster,” Madi says. “You have told me of your role on the crew, but I suspect you are a triumvirate in your conversations.” 

 

“They are both good men, no matter what you might have heard,” Miranda says, and her voice is stronger, more steadfast in her belief. “Captain Flint does not lust for blood, nor does John Silver.”

 

She files John Silver’s name away. “And you?”

 

“Ma’am?” 

 

“Are you good?” It’s not necessarily a moral judgement she’s requesting, but Madi stares right at her. “Are you as deceitful as people suggest you pirates are?” 

 

“I think we can be useful to each other,” Miranda says, “And that is far more important than what people say, I believe.” 

 

 

•••

 

 

Flint is the one to make the appeal to Madi’s mother. He’s an eloquent speaker, with a charisma that is unlike anything that she has ever seen. Madi watches as he speaks of civilization and war and loss, and she can hear Miranda’s words echo in her head the entire time, as if she too is in the room, standing by the captain. 

 

The men are freed once the queen makes her decision. The camp is unused to having this many white men roaming about, and there is uneasiness throughout after this new alliance is announced. But Madi seeks out the lone woman in the pirates’s ranks, after. She sees Silver and Flint huddled together, both casting looks among the men around them, and then Miranda, who approaches her before she can make the subtlest of gestures. 

 

In the daylight, Miranda’s hair is a dark brown color, not black like she had thought. With those dark eyes already fixed on Madi, she says, “It would seem that you and I have born this alliance.” 

 

Madi stops in front of her. On either side of them, pirates and Maroons file by, growing accustomed to this changed space. “It would seem that we will discover each other’s use,” she says in response.  

 

Miranda’s eyes glitter. “I would hope to speak with you again,” she says, “Both as part of our new alliance.”

 

“And in another capacity?”

 

“Well, it is rare to find a woman whose tongue is not limited by civilization,” Miranda says. “If I might - I would ask to dine with you, either here or aboard our ship tonight.” 

 

She can’t leave the camp to go to the ship, not when everything is still so tenuous, but she sees the offer for what it is. “Very well,” Madi says. “I shall see you in my room at sundown.”

 

“Ma’am,” Miranda says. As Madi watches, she turns to where Silver and Flint are waiting. The three of them regroup, and Madi looks away when she feels a hand on her arm. 

 

Her mother stands, holding her shawl around her even though it’s still quite warm out. “Be careful, Madi,” she says, holding her gaze.

 

Without quite knowing why, Madi nods. 

 

 

 

•••

 

 

Their second meeting in the room is unlike their first in many ways, but there is that same tension underlying every movement. Miranda arrives promptly, just after the sun disappears below the tree line, sinking down into the horizon. 

 

“Thank you,” Miranda says, accepting the cup that Madi pours for her. With several hours of sleep, she looks sharper, her eyes following Madi as she sets out bread and stew for them. “This island is beautiful.” 

 

“It is the people who define it,” Madi says. She takes a sip of her drink, as Miranda mirrors her. “This place is a refuge, and the people here treat it as another home.” 

 

“I told you I was from London,” Miranda says, taking a step to the side. Something on the bookshelves must have caught her eye, for she looks over there, the small lines on the sides of her eyes deepening. “There, the air is thick and grey, and the streets are similarly colored. Nothing like here - or Nassau, for that matter, where there is green as far as the eye can see.” 

 

Madi watches as she reaches out, touches a book. She knows the order of the books in her room by heart, as she says, “The Tempest. A little on the nose for this place, but a favorite none the less.” 

 

“ _How beauteous mankind is_ ,” Miranda quotes, “ _O brave new world, that has such people in it_.”

 

Madi can’t stop the upwards curl of her mouth. She sets down her cup, stepping behind her and watching her finger trace over the gold letting. “Your namesake?”

 

The back of Miranda’s neck is revealed by her hair, now tied up to the base of her neck, as a single tendril escapes in a long curl. “After a great-aunt, one I never met - “ Miranda cuts off as Madi leans in, her lips just brushing the side of her neck. 

 

She holds back, for a moment - alliance or not, she’ll not be the sort to push - but then Miranda’s exhaling, sounding like surprise, though not negative, and she reaches around, touches her. 

 

Madi feels the warmth of Miranda’s sides under her hands. Her shirt is thin, as she slides her hands down, Miranda’s head tilting back onto her shoulder. “Is this how you form alliances, after all?” Miranda asks, inhaling sharply when Madi carefully drags her teeth along the base of her neck. 

 

“This, is a negotiation of sorts,” Madi says. She can feel Miranda’s heartbeat under her palms as she slides her hands forward now, feeling Miranda’s hipbones under her fingers. “There is practicality in these maneuvers, but does it dissuade you?” 

 

A strong alliance is formed in many ways. If they are to start a war against civilization, then she would wish to solidify what could be left unknown. She had seen the look in Miranda’s eyes earlier. She knows when to act, and this - this is far from a difficult decision, as a leader. Reckless, perhaps, but she’s just beginning to wrap her mind around the idea of fighting a war, after all. 

 

Miranda shivers, and her mouth parts just a little. “Perhaps to be too practical is madness,” she says, as Madi kisses her neck again. “Too much sanity may be madness —  “

 

There’s more to the quote, Madi knows, but when she bites down, Miranda moans instead of continuing. She turns around, aided by Madi’s hands that are then able to slip down over her shirt, and she captures her mouth in a demanding kiss. 

 

Madi presses back as Miranda kisses her. Her hands move to Miranda’s hair, pulling her closer. Miranda’s tongue swipes along Madi’s lower lip as if testing the waters, passing through and gliding along hers, tasting her as they both explore. Madi can feel her hands go to the small of her back, pulling her shirt out of her dress, mostly clutching at skin and fabric as the sound she makes is muffled into her mouth. 

 

Miranda tastes more like the wine than anything else, but she kisses with an intent that is stronger than any flavor. Madi’s fingers dig a little into her hair, loosening the knot it’s in, as Miranda breathes out on her mouth, both unwilling to move too far away.  

 

She breaks the kiss, and without breaking eye contact, she moves back to the bed in the corner of the room. Given the sweet scent of wine that wafts by, she might have knocked over the cup Miranda was holding, or maybe she just dropped it,  but she finds she cares very little as she leads Miranda back, feels those eyes on her. 

 

When the bed hits the back of her knees, Madi sits. But rather than join her on the bed, Miranda sinks to her knees in front of her, the sound a sharp thud on the floorboards, and it makes her feel the flush that’s been climbing its way up her body. 

 

Madi’s knees part on instinct, but they’re guided as well by Miranda’s hands that have fallen to her thighs. Miranda ducks below her skirts, then, ruching the material up as she gets closer, her breath hot and wet on her thighs, not letting the clothing get between her aim. 

 

“Oh,” Madi breathes out, careful not to be too loud, but unable to avoid it entirely as Miranda licks into her. She tilts her hips up, trying to get the right angle as Miranda presses kisses to the inside of her thigh, teasing, before resuming running her tongue up her folds, the tip of her tongue teasing her clit. She’s done this before, as she seems to chase the shift of Madi’s thighs by moving her head to the side, getting closer as her nose bumps into Madi’s clit. 

 

Madi moves a little more, adjusting, and she feels Miranda draw her head back before resuming, finding that right angle. “There,” Madi gasps, “There-  “ and Miranda moans, her hands joining her under the skirt. Madi can feel her own fingers dig into the blanket on top of her bed, as the vibration adds to the sensations rocking through her, twisting up her spine and amplified by the wet sounds she can hear from below.

 

Before long, Miranda gets into a rhythm that has Madi throwing her head to the side, breathing in and out through her nose. She bites her lip, tasting blood, as Miranda slides a single finger into her, keeping in sync with her tongue as she groans again. That finger curls up, and something lights up behind Madi’s eyes, as she lets her head drop, rolling her hips against her mouth. 

 

Her thighs start to quiver, and as Miranda sucks more on her clit, works her mouth over her, Madi clenches her fist, brings it down on the bed. Her orgasm hits her hard as her back arches up, her skirt moving where Miranda brings her hands up, rubbing circles onto her bare hips as she works Madi through the waves, still making that groaning sound against her flesh. 

 

As Madi catches her breath, Miranda emerges. She’s expecting her to look smug, or perhaps another measured look, calculating this change - but instead, Miranda looks wild, her mouth and face wet from her, as her tongue runs out to taste. 

 

She looks every bit a pirate, Madi thinks to herself, ready to run into a storm, but she doesn’t ponder that thought for long as she moves back onto the bed. She’s still clothed, watching as Miranda undoes her belt, slides off her trousers before following her onto the bed, straddling her. 

 

The light across the room shines on Miranda’s skin once Madi manages to pull her shirt all the way off. Her breasts, heavy on the bottom and a touch paler than the rest of her, taste like salt and sweat, as Madi traces the curve of one with her tongue. Miranda sits down on top of her, muscled thighs at either side of her hips, as Madi licks a nipple, running her hands up her sides until they support her back. 

 

“Like this,” Madi tells her when she draws her mouth a little way. Miranda’s pupils are dialated as they watch her kiss along her breasts, her sternum, sliding along every inch. “This way - “

 

Miranda lets out a long moan when Madi’s fingers find their way to her. Madi digs her fingers into the ridge on the top of her thigh, her thumb right over her clit, circling nearly lazily. Miranda’s hips move in turn, seeking more friction as her hands go up to Madi’s own hips, balancing herself on top. 

 

When Madi switches the direction of her circling, Miranda leans down, and their noses knock together a little as she kisses her. Madi can taste herself in her mouth, feels the slight tremble of Miranda’s fingers on the back of her neck as Madi’s thigh slots between hers, tugging at her lip in turn. 

 

“Off,” Miranda rasps when she pulls back, tugging at the neck of Madi's blouse. With her aid, Madi pulls it off, feels the cool air on her own breasts. Miranda bends her head down, kisses the tops of them, but she’s unable to do much more when Madi resumes the movement of her hand, the other one now slipping to tease at her entrance. 

 

Two fingers later, and Miranda’s hips are thrusting properly, as she moans her pleasure into the air. Madi belatedly wishes there was more light in the room to see her, as Miranda’s body gyrates over her, seeking the curl of her fingers, her body rolling like the waves crashing upon a shore, the base of Madi’s other hand rubbing against her with every grind. 

 

When she comes, Miranda lets out a shout, her eyes shut, brow furrowed. Madi raises a sticky hand to her stomach, stroking the softer skin there as she works her through similarly, twisting her fingers just a little until Miranda’s breathing starts to slow. She can feel her fluttering around her fingers, the heat that feels as though it's dripping down her hand, pooling between them. 

 

Miranda swings her leg over Madi, and she goes to lie down next to her with a much softer exhale. Madi can feel blood thrumming in her ears, feeling something restless shift under her skin once again, but she lets it be. 

 

“Cervantes,” Miranda says, a little breathless, “ _Thou hast seen nothing yet.”_  

 

Madi’s caught off guard, and she doesn’t intend the genuine amused sound she makes at that. “Truly,” she says, and moves her head a little to the side. Miranda’s eyes open as though she knows Madi’s looking at her, and she doesn’t feel the need to say anything else, as they both catch their breath. 

 

For an alliance, she hopes that this would be an auspicious start. 

 

 

•••

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @jamesbarlow!


End file.
